A painting is made of paint, not words – no rational understanding can adequately express the experience of feeling a painting. My paintings aim to do what paint does best: teeter on the edge of abstraction and representation, foregrounding the act of mental construction fundamental to seeing, so that the viewer is faced with the sensuous beauty of paint applied to a two-dimensional surface and the self-awareness of a mind that wants to understand. These paintings beg the question: what is really real — the material from which we construct an idea of the world or the conception of the world at which we ultimately arrive? 

As a painter working with painting conventions, I am inspired by the problems that painters have grappled with throughout the tradition of western painting. Veronese’s collision of the sky, classical architecture, and masses of writhing bodies begs the question of the relationship between humans, architecture and nature. Tintoretto’s drapery reveal how mastery of the hand can manipulate the sparsest paint to represent a three-dimensional idea. Rothko’s abstraction revealed to me that the mind wants to make sense of the things that the eyes see. For, although many say that painting is dead, the question of how we understand what we see is always relevant – and it just so happens that paint is a perfect medium in which to attempt an answer.